Spiritual Exercises as Part of Jesus' Yoke of Grace

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

In my last post, I wrote about the means that Jesus gives so that people might come to know God.  Certainly, these means provide for a great beginning to knowing God, but they are also the places where friendship with God can really take root.


Strangely, I hesitated to bring in prayer as one of those means.  One reason is that I do not consider myself a really great pray-er.  I do not find myself asking for a lot.  I kind of have to make myself ask.  I have been given much, but I think that more of that comes from an ingrained sense of self-sufficiency that makes the humility of asking foreign to me.  I am working on it.

Another reason for not involving prayer in the introduction to knowing God is that prayer is so easily misconstrued for other things.  Although scriptural meditation and contemplation have their places in the realm of prayer, prayer is most fundamentally asking.  Prayer without request is not Christian prayer.  Certainly asking can be simply directed toward the fulfillment of my desires, but it also encompasses interceding and confessing.  The point is that it is directed to God and not merely to a state of mind.  The many fashions and misunderstandings of prayer make it a minefield when seeking God at first.  Not everything "spiritual" is good.

Also, prayer is so common and subjective that it is difficult to hear God initially amid the many other inner voices and feelings.  My prayer needs a lot of help from the outside.  I need the Bible, the church, and the creation in order to find and hear God.  Without them, I would find prayer to be very confusing and disheartening.

That being said, without prayer, the Bible, the church, and the creation are extremely limited in their own ability to present the knowledge of God.  They may present many facts and even truth, but without prayer, they are a table set without a feast.  Jesus sets the table that I might be nourished and filled, yes.  Even more, though, he sets the table that I might be filled with the company of God himself.  Such a feast is designed to be shared, not merely hoarded or admired.

This sharing of the feast is what spiritual exercises are about.  They are the ways in which each person can partake of the means that Jesus has provided for our friendship with himself and the Father.  In essence each spiritual exercise is one of prayer and one of practice.

Spiritual exercises are all prayer in that they are yearning for God.  Without the yearning and asking for God and his good gifts, spiritual exercises are useless and possibly harmful.  Whatever is done is done for the sake of knowing God and Jesus, whom he sent.  This is the fundamental reason for Christian spiritual exercises.

The "classic" exercises of solitude, silence, fasting, study, worship, etc. are the tried and true methods with thousands of years of practice behind them.  They are the means for feasting with God.  Each can be used to serve other purposes which can widely be understood as looking good or feeling good.  These are covered in the Bible by Jesus when he says, "Be careful not to do your acts of righteousness to be seen by men.  If you do you will have no reward from your Father in heaven."  (Matthew 6:1)  James covers the other aspect of incorrect motives by saying, "You do not have, because you do not ask God. When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures."  (James 4:2-3)

This does not mean that spiritual exercises are all drudgery.  They are feasting with God and should be understood that way.  On the way, a person may find that they "look good" or "feel good," but these are not the primary motives.  When they take the place of seeking and knowing God and his goodness, then they become diversions and shows for other people.  Jesus' advice on prayer can be used with spiritual exercise in general: "Go into your room and close the door and pray to your Father who is unseen.  Then your Father, who sees what is unseen, will reward you."  and "Do not keep babbling on like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words.  Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him."  Talking about spiritual exercises is dangerous if it does not lead to practicing them.  Doing spiritual exercises for the sake of reporting to them instead of seeking God is dangerous.  What is exciting is that God rewards those who seek him and he knows my needs deeply and intimately, so that I so not need to try to secure rewards and pleasures from other people or my own impulsive desires.

So if I practice silence, it is with the hope and expectation that God will be with me.  If I study the Bible or creation, it is with the hope that I will hear God and know him more fully.  If I serve other people, it is with the goal of them seeing what I do and praising God for it.  The only thing that enables me to get through the "dry" times is the goal of seeking the best for God in each circumstance (that would be his "glory").  If I slip into seeking pleasure or others appreciation, then spiritual exercises quickly fade.

Most importantly, prayer depends on God.  The Holy Spirit is who enables all actions toward God.  The "burden" of seeking God and knowing him is too much for any person to carry on their own.  Asking God through prayer for his help makes the burden "easy and light" because he is at the other end doing most of the lifting.  My task is small in term of lifting the yoke, but necessary in term of shouldering the yoke and putting in my own effort.  The yoke of spiritual exercise is "easy and light" because it is performed in and through prayer, but spiritual exercises are a yoke because they take genuine effort.

This effort component to spiritual exercise is practice.  The most dangerous kinds of "spiritual exercises" are ones that remain mere topics of conversation or interest.  It is tempting to remain a spectator in the sport of spiritual exercises.  People can talk about them, study them, and even admire them, but without practice they will not really be spiritual exercises, but only spiritual wall hangings in a person's life.

It is necessary to talk about them and think through them, but only as a precursor to doing them.  The talk and thoughts of a person intending on making a trip around the world is different from a person who just talks about going around the world.  The first one plans while the second one merely wishes or pretends.  Intention takes the vision of spiritual exercise and turns it into action.

Another part of practice is starting small.  While inaction is on the major causes for failure in the practice of spiritual exercise, not far behind is the tendency to do something "big."  It is not enough to be still five minutes in a day, I must try to spend eight hours in silence.  It is not enough to study and memorize Psalm 23, I must outline the whole book of Psalms.  Usually, this tendency to do "great" things stems from more pride than devotion.  This is not to say that moving toward eight hours of silence is not good, but it takes practice to do this successfully and usually, starting with what a person can do rather than what they think they should do.

My own experience in memorizing scripture demonstrates this.  When I started my kids on the task of memorizing Bible passages, I did not start with Romans 8 or the Sermon on the Mount.  We started with Psalm 23.  Just like when I first started to memorize scripture recently, I found one of my main difficulties was knowing that I could and that the effort was good.  I had been not merely saved by grace, but paralyzed by it, thinking that all effort was seeking to earn God's favor.  This came from a misunderstanding about spiritual exercises being merely works of the flesh or natural human ability.  I found that what made them works of the flesh was not that they were work, but when they were merely of the flesh.  Depending solely on my own abilities and talents when performing such work meant that I was not doing them in prayer but by sheer "willpower" or pride nor was I practicing them as much as performing them.

I return to Jesus picture of the yoke that is easy and the burden that is light.  Strangely enough, the yoke of spiritual exercises is best taken up by those who are "weary and heavy laden," more than those who sense and trust their own power and ability to accomplish things.  To practice them, I must first come to rest and stop doing what I have been doing to better myself and run my life.  Jesus begs the weary to come to him and find rest.  Spiritual exercises are all about that rest.  The passive part of them is releasing the results to Jesus, who carries most of the burden.  Ironically the release takes real effort.  Who would have thought that letting go could be so hard?  Yet this is the rest that Jesus invites me into that involves a yoke and real effort.

Rest is trust.  Rest is humility.  Rest is effort in the right direction for the right things.  Fortunately, rest is possible because God is always at work.  The heart of rest is prayer for grace, asking God to do what I cannot do.  Such rest only comes through practice, since even grace freely given must be received.  In this way when Jesus calls me to rest, he calls me to pray to him and practice life with him under his yoke of grace.

Wow.  I never thought that the yoke Jesus was talking about was grace, but now I see it clearly.  It is the favor of God that I might work with Jesus, learning to be gentle and lowly of heart through practice.    Also, it is taking on his burdens and resting from my own.  Finally, it is continually relying on and asking for the favor of his strength to do what I cannot, bear the yoke.  And so grace is the easy yoke of Jesus: resting from my work, practicing his work, and praying for his continual lift in the process.

Lord, please let me take this yoke and leave my own behind.  Let me shoulder your grace, which is your rest, your work, and your salvation for my hungry soul.  When I say, "Give me your grace" or "Have mercy on me," help me to remember taking on this yoke that you offer to the weary and heavy-laden.  That is what I am, so this is what I so desperately need.  Amen.

Coming to Know God

The trouble with knowing God comes from how I try to know him.  God is a person and so knowing him, at the very least, will come in the same way as knowing a person.  This is not to say that I cannot know anything about God without being personally acquainted with him, but it is to say that knowing about God is not the same as knowing God.

For example, I know a number of things about my wife, Dawn, but these things do not encompass the reality of knowing her as a person.  Knowing about Dawn is lesser form of knowledge of her.  Knowing about someone usually comes from hearing about them and seeing them doing things.  If I stop there with my knowledge of a person, then I might say I know about them or that I am acquainted with them, but I would not say I know them.

Knowing about God comes through hearing about him and seeing what he does and has done.  This comes through the creation as Paul asserts in Romans 1: "Since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made."  This also comes through the church, the people who have known Jesus, who knows God.  Jesus prays especially or these in John 17: "I pray also for those who will believe in me through [the disciples'] message."  Also Peter writes Finally, God has arranged that a record be kept of what he has said and done among people.  Although, it was written be people, he oversaw its creation from beginning to end as 2 Peter says: "Above all, you must understand that no prophecy of Scripture came about by the prophet’s own interpretation. For prophecy never had its origin in the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit."  What applies to these prophets applies to the Bible as a whole.

Obviously, there are many ways in which people first become acquainted with God.  What is special about these particular means is that they come from Jesus.  Other people have other ideas about how a person might start to know God, but these are the things that Jesus and his most intimate followers have developed in order to make God known in this life: the creation, the church, and the Bible.

As I write about these things, I am filled with gratitude for how carefully God has laid out the table of friendship between himself and each person.  A person who is willing to come and eat of these things will find that he cannot not only know about God, but actually come to know God personally.  In order to sit at the table of friendship with God, I see that I have some baggage to lay aside.

Why?  Why must I change myself in order to start knowing God?  One reason comes back to the way I come to know God.  I come to know him as a person, not merely a subject.  With this understanding, I realize that I cannot come to know any person merely as a subject.  Cutting up and dissecting a person (whether figuratively or in fact) will not bring me to know them because knowing them takes a personal investment.  Without any investment, personally knowing them is impossible.  The investment is trust at some level.

So with Dawn, although observing her and hearing about her may reveal many things about her, I will not know her without investing myself in being with her and listening to her.  Amazing things happen to my perceptions about Dawn, even after 19 years of marriage, when I spend time listening to her and just being around her.  The things I observe and hear about her take on new meaning in light of the deeper knowledge of intimacy.  The things I know about Dawn are conditioned by how much I know her.  Without trust at some level, Dawn will not allow me to know her and I will remain on the outside of her life looking in.  Without trust, I am a mere observer or maybe an acquaintance of Dawn.  So it is with God.

This is what Jesus meant as he started his earthly ministry to bring the Father to humanity and humanity to the Father.  He said, "Repent!"  Repenting is not so much about being sorry as it is about changing one's mind.  It is a decision to invest and trust instead of ignore and mistrust.  For those willing to investigate and lay aside distrust of God and his purposes, Jesus says, "the kingdom of heaven is available."  Knowing God and his purposes is accessible, but as with any knowledge, it has conditions.  The condition for most knowledge is "repentance," that is, turning aside the idea that whatever is there is unknowable and investigating the matter firsthand.

Now Jesus gave me the means of knowing him, but he does not demand that I use the means.  This is what makes him trustworthy as a teacher and a friend.  He is willing to let me go and look for other ways to know God.  He would be the first to encourage any ideas that were better than his own.  Jesus knows that in order to obtain knowledge a person must seek it.  Knowledge of God or anything else does not just happen or enter me passively like osmosis.  To know something, I must seek it.  To know a person I must seek them and ask them.  So Jesus does not, really cannot, make us know God, because of the nature of knowledge, even on a personal level.

It doesn't take much experience with other people to realize that a person must be sought to be known.  I cannot know Dawn unless I want to know Dawn.  She can talk and strive to be with me all she wants to.  If I don't seek her, she will remain unknown (and possibly be annoying) if she tries to make me know her.  Jesus lays the table for knowing God, but cannot make me eat.

I run into three barriers when I try to explain knowing God, even in myself: "Do I want to know God?", "Can I know God?", and "Does God want to know me?"  The first is the desire to know God.  Do I want a loving God to be personally involved with me on a daily basis?  Do I really want to know God?  Obviously, if I don't desire to know him, I won't really know him.  I will probably make up a lot of things about him from what I hear and see, but it will all be guesswork, just as it would be for any other person I don't care to know.  Usually the real barrier here is that I want to do what I want to do without any interference, especially from God.

"Can I know God?"  Another barrier is the doubt that I really can know God at all.  Can I know someone that I cannot see or hear directly with my senses?  This doubt presses on me not so much because I cannot conceive of knowing a purely spiritual being, but because how I have been brought up to think that only the things I can see, hear, and measure are worth paying attention to.  Reality is what is seen and senses, not what is unseen or outside the senses, according to the general wisdom.  As I move forward though, I realize that this doubt comes from social pressure, not from any reason or well-thought-out idea.

"Does God want to know me?"  A third barrier is the suspicion that God may not really care to know me.  Can someone all-knowing, all-powerful, and all-good be interested in me?  Can intimacy exist between myself and such a being?  Not surprisingly, this suspicion comes most of all when I don't really want to be known.  What I mean is that it is hard to be known, really known.  It's scary.  I look at myself from past to present and really doubt at times that I am worth knowing.  The proof of this is in how many things I hide about myself and how I present something that is not really who I am to other people, God included.  This bias is fed by enemies who tell me that I am not worth knowing and that God has abandoned me, if he was ever really there at all.  However, I think it is because of my own fear of being known that I suspect that God can't or won't have a personal relationship with me.  If God is so great, he certainly can come to know me intimately and personally.  To say he is too "great" to know me is to misunderstand greatness.

Jesus has shown a God who wants to be known and a humanity that wants to hide from him.  Jesus has explained how to come to know God through changing and seeking him.  He has provided the way through three basic means: the creation, the church, and the Bible.  These means are regularly disregarded and degraded because of a lack of desire to know God who might interfere with personal desires, a general social bias to regard the physical realm as all of reality, and the suspicion that God doesn't really want to know people and has abandoned this existence.  Jesus teaches and shows all people that those who want to know God will find him, that he is knowable, and that he wants to know each person.

These three means for knowing God are not final, but are the beginning of knowing about him.  Ultimately, they all become the means by which I pray and converse with God, thereby knowing him directly.  In the light of prayer, the means of knowledge that Jesus gave become more brilliant and understandable, just as in my relationship with Dawn.  My personal, conversational relationship with her brings to light the reasons and meanings for the things she says and does.  I will not ever be in a place where I could always predict her, but I can say what her tendencies are and come to understand her reasons through our relationship.  So it is with God.

Lord, you have provided the table of friendship so I can know you in this life.  I need not be content with guesses, rumors, and suspicions.  I can know you and come to understand you and your ways.  Save me from my own desires that take me away from you, the world that presses me to see you as unreal, and my enemies that say you don't care.  You are my Shepherd and I'll not be in want.  Amen.


As a last word, I love this statement from the first followers of Jesus about knowing God in 2 Peter:

We did not follow cleverly invented stories when we told you about the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty. For he received honor and glory from God the Father when the voice came to him from the Majestic Glory, saying, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” We ourselves heard this voice that came from heaven when we were with him on the sacred mountain.  And we have the word of the prophets made more certain, and you will do well to pay attention to it, as to a light shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.† 

Self-Denial as a Means to Humility

Today the Lord gave me a plan for self-denial.  I have been long aware of its necessity, but have not seen its beauty.  I have known it is right, but have not been so deeply aware of its goodness.

Except a man denies himself, he cannot be My disciple. Self is the whole evil of fallen nature; self-denial is our capacity of being saved; humility is our saviour ... Self is the root, the branches, the tree, of all the evil of our fallen state. All the evils of fallen angels and men have their birth in the pride of self. On the other hand, all the virtues of the heavenly life are the virtues of humility. (Andrew Murray, Humility)

 Self-denial leads to humility, the very heart of Jesus.

In this view it is of inconceivable importance that we should have right thoughts of what Christ is, of what really constitutes Him the Christ, and specially of what may be counted His chief characteristic, the root and essence of all His character as our Redeemer.There can be but one answer: it is His humility. What is the incarnation but His heavenly humility, His emptying Himself and becoming man? What is His life on earth but humility; His taking the form of a servant? And what is His atonement but humility? "He humbled himself and became obedient to death."(ibid)

With the humility of Jesus as the vision, self-denial becomes the intention.  The means of self-denial are like those of dealing with anger.  It is natural to be angry, but anger turns to sin when I harbor it and nurture it.  Similarly, desires are natural and necessary, but become sin when I harbor them and nurture them.

What I like and dislike harbors much of my thoughts and feelings.  Such desires should come and I need to let them go.  What is good should occupy my mind over what I want.  With the right vision and intention, the means to let go of my desires quickly could become habitual.

Lord, this gives me hope.  You are showing me the joy of self-denial already in how I perceive and accept other people.  Give me grace to grow into humility like Jesus'.  Amen.

The Lost Church

Oft in the far wood, overhead,

Tones of a bell are heard obscurely;

How old the sounds no sage has said,

Or yet explained the story surely.

From the lost church, the legend saith,

Out on the winds, the ringing goeth;

Once full of pilgrims was the path—

Now where to find it, no one knoweth.

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Deep in the wood I lately went,

Where no foot-trodden path is lying;

From the time's woe and discontent,

My heart went forth to God in sighing.

When in the forest's wild repose,

I heard the ringing somewhat clearer;

The higher that my longing rose,

Downward it rang the fuller, nearer.

So on its thoughts my heart did brood,

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My sense was with the sound so busy,

That I have never understood

How I clomb up the height so dizzy.

To me it seemed a hundred years

Had passed away in dreaming, sighing—

When lo! high o'er the clouds, appears

An open space in sunlight lying.

The heaven, dark-blue, above it bowed;

The sun shone o'er it, large and glowing;

Beneath, a ministers structure proud

Stood in the gold light, golden showing.

It seemed on those great clouds, sun-clear,

Aloft to hover, as on pinions;

Its spire-point seemed to disappear,

Melting away in high dominions.

The bell's clear tones, entrancing, full—

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The quivering tower, they, booming, swung it;

No human hand the rope did pull—

The holy storm-winds sweeping rung it. 

The storm, the stream, came down, came near,

And seized my heart with longing holy;

Into the church I went, with fear,

With trembling step, and gladness lowly.

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The threshold crossed--I cannot show

What in me moved; words cannot paint it.

Both dark and clear, the windows glow

With noble forms of martyrs sainted.

I gazed and saw--transfigured glory!

The pictures swell and break their barriers;

I saw the world and all its story

Of holy women, holy warriors.

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Down at the altar I sank slowly;

My heart was like the face of Stephen.

Aloft, upon the arches holy,

Shone out in gold the glow of heaven.

I prayed; I looked again; and lo!

The dome's high sweep had flown asunder;

The heavenly gates wide open go;

And every veil unveils a wonder.

What gloriousness I then beheld, 

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Kneeling in prayer, silent and wondrous,
What sounds triumphant on me swelled,

Like organs and like trumpets thunderous—

My mortal words can never tell;

But who for such is sighing sorest,

Let him give heed unto the bell

That dimly soundeth in the forest.'"

George MacDonald

(As a commentary on this poem, read the conversation after the poem is read in MacDonald’s Story, Adela Cathcart:

  "What is the lost church?" asked Mrs. Cathcart.

  "No one can tell, but him who finds it, like the poet," answered the curate.

  "But I suppose you at least consider it the Church of England," returned the lady with one of her sweetest attempts at a smile.

  "God forbid!" exclaimed the clergyman, with a kind of sacred horror.

  "Not the Church of England!" cried Mrs. Cathcart, in a tone of horror likewise, dashed with amazement.

  "No, madam--the Church of God; the great cathedral-church of the universe; of which Church I trust the Church of England is a little Jesus-chapel. . . “

  "Whoever finds God in his own heart," said the clergyman, solemnly, "has found the lost Church--the Church of God.”)


What else can I say?  MacDonald does it best.  Only this:


O God, you are my God. 
  Earnestly I seek you. 
My soul thirsts for you,
  My body longs for you
In a dry and weary land
  Where there is no water.

I have seen you in the sanctuary
  And beheld your power and your glory. . . (Ps. 63)

Good for What?

Goodness is not defined by action.  Actions can only be good if the intention is good.  For example, One man gets a second job to earn money so that he can send his child to school.  Another man gets a second job to earn money so he can support a drug habit.  Both men have the same actions, but their intentions are different making one man's actions good and the other man's actions evil.

Goodness can only be declared and administered by God.  Only he is able and fit to take such a position.  No other governor of moral law is possible, whether by rule or consensus, since people always lack perfect knowledge and differ in their views and feelings.

Goodness does not exist because God wills it or because God created it or because God performs it.  Goodness exists because it is what God is.  He cannot rule by any other means; he cannot create in any other way; he cannot act with any other intention.

So the very basis of goodness in human life is the goodness that God is.  This alone is the only ultimate intention that makes "good" actions good.  As defined above, it is intention that makes an act moral or good, not the action itself.

Jesus described the only real good intentions this way: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength.  Love your neighbor as yourself."  The love of God, the affirmation of his intrinsic and essential goodness, will alone guide and correct all other actions and areas of human life.  Without this inner admission of God's goodness, good cannot be done, because goodness is always defined by intention.

Similarly, the love of our neighbors affirms the essential goodness of God since they are made for his love and his benevolence.  Denying love to our neighbors denies the that intentions of God for good in this world, since that is what the creation is made for: people.  People (as well as all creation) have value and goodness because they are made by and for a good God.

In this age, the more typical command is: "Love yourself with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength.  Love God and your neighbor when it serves your self-interest."  So rather than goodness being the foundation of action, personal desire becomes the foundation.  The fundamental question switches from "What is good?" to "What is good for me?" or "What's in it for me?"

For example, one person goes to church, volunteers at a soup kitchen, and teaches their children to do what is right so that they will not be punished, but will be rewarded by God, or so that other people will see their goodness.  Another goes to church, volunteers at a soup kitchen, and teaches their children to do right because they love God and their neighbor as themselves.  One is a hypocrite, the other is devoted.  The ultimate intention is what makes the action good.

A popular notion is that a person can just love their neighbor and not love God.  The question would be, "On what basis can a person love their neighbor as themselves except with God as the source of goodness?"  Invariably, such love picks out which people deserve love and which people can be overlooked.  It must take from one group and give to the other.  This is because without God as the foundation and administrator of goodness, personal preference and desire rule.

In the end, the question becomes not "What is good?" or "Who is good?", but "What is a person good for?"  Is it for God's sake, so his goodness and light might be known and acknowledged?  Or is it for the more typical reason: self-interest?

As Jesus said, "Many will come to me that day and say, 'Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons and perform many miracles?'  But I will tell them plainly, 'I never knew you.  Away from me you evildoers!'."  (Mt. 7)  This loving God with all that we are is more than just knowing about him, it is a person-to-person, conversational relationship that underlies the good intentions we are to have.

Another person to describe this is Paul when he wrote, "If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.  If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, but have not love, I am nothing.  If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing."  (1 Cor. 13:1-3)  The love Paul is speaking of is the love that Jesus described: "Love God with all that you are and love your neighbor as yourself."  Without this foundation and intention, no actions are beneficial or good.

Goodness flows from the intention to serve God because he is good and kind and loving.  This is where most of my time is spent.  In an age where people spend their days denying and hiding from God's goodness and seeking their own desires, I must take special time and constantly remember to affirm and seek God's goodness and love.  From this "cleaning the inside of the cup, the outside becomes clean."  From this rooting and planting by streams of living water, fruit grows.  From this desire to imitate God, goodness flows.

Ironically, people have a internal story that says, "If I get what I want, then I'll be happy."  This, of course, is a lie, disproved many times by many lives.  Usually, we find if we always give people what they want they get "spoiled."  The true story goes, "Seek God's goodness and love and influence and happiness will be thrown in, too" or as Jesus says, "Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness and all these things will be given to you as well."  (Mt. 6:33)

(My thanks to Charles Finney's Systematic Theology.  This blog entry is not intended to prove, but to provide reasons to have confidence in God and his goodness.  Also this entry is not intended to argue, but to clarify, most of all for myself.)

Lord, let me be good for you, or I will find that I have been good for nothing.  Amen.

Can Children Hear from God?

The question really becomes how do children hear from God.  In one way, God is always speaking for those who can hear: "The heavens declare the glory of God. . . day after day they pour forth speech."  (Ps. 19)  Certainly the scriptures are God's word for us.  God's word is always there.  He is speaking.

With my children, I have had to teach them how to distinguish God's voice.  For a long time God's voice came through Dawn and me.  Their consciousness was not fully developed, so they were not aware of their own thoughts, exactly.  Of course, God spoke to them, but they were not fully aware of it in a specific sense.  They seemed to merely live in it by instinct, so to say.

What I mean is that the Creation is constantly interacting with and trusting God, but it does it by instinct.  God made human beings special in that they can choose to interact with and trust God and also be aware of it.  Those are things that other earthly created beings cannot do.  Children seem to start with a somewhat automatic sense of God, but then they come to a place where they must choose such interaction and become conscious of it.

Our fallen nature comes in as a "missing sense."  I read somewhere that being fallen is the fall of our hunger and awareness of God from the highest and most prominent part of ourselves to a place of death and insignificance.  Children, then, have to be taught to nurture that hunger and awareness although it is fallen and weakened by our present condition.  (Kind of like a lifetime of rehab.)

My daughter, Bethany, asked me recently if her dog, Hudson, obeyed God.  I answered, "Always."

She then said, "I wish I was like Hudson."

I said, "That's good, but Hudson is not aware of God; he just obeys out of instinct.  God has given us the gift and responsibility of having to choose to obey and being aware of that choice.  That's an important part of love."

She said, "Oh, then, I am glad I am not like Hudson."

"Me too," I said, "you'd be too fuzzy."

Kids are great.